


The One Who Holds the Stars

by ForgottenAngerCourter



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Emotional Trauma, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Sabaody, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-23 06:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17678174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenAngerCourter/pseuds/ForgottenAngerCourter
Summary: It should have been easy.Easy as breathing.But there was a distance of two years between them- Zoro had bulldozed through those years thinking that they would pick up where they had left off. It was only now that he was realizing just how foolish he had been.





	1. Whenever I start to Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to try and keep my stories as close to cannon as possible, and so I just wanted to warn everyone that Sanji and Zoro's beginning is going to bit rocky- but I by the end of this story, they will be closer because of it :)

After reuniting on Sabaody, Zoro was quick to notice something that unnerved him.

There was a distance between him and Sanji that had never been there before, and no matter how often Zoro tried to bring out the playful nature in Sanji that he had only  _just_ started to see before they were separated…

Sanji remained detached from him. They were now separated by an invisible barrier that was three times thicker then it had been when they were  **strangers**.

After departing Sabaody, there were times when Zoro couldn’t help but lash out at the cook in sheer frustration and… maybe even a hint of hurt, which only served to piss the swordsman off even more when he acknowledged the emotion.

Because it shouldn’t have been like this.

 

 

  **~ Sabaody Arc ~**

 

He had planned their reunion over a million times in his head- and after he found out that he was the first to arrive on Sabaody, not only had he felt smug, but also even a bit playful. Because after finding this out, he had known exactly what he was going to say to the cook- he had the  _perfect_ opening to gloss over their two years apart.

He was going to smirk and tease the man for being the 7th to arrive on Sabaody- while  _he_ had been 1st. Oh, Zoro had spent those first few days on cloud nine, just waiting to rub that fact in Sanji’s face. The ero-cook never failed to tease him about being ‘directionally challenged’ (which Zoro wasn’t), and now that he had  _irrevocable_ proof that he wasn’t, he was going to soak in the cook’s stunned disbelief and hold it over his head every time that damn dartboard brow brought it up again.

It should have been easy.

Easy as breathing.

But reality turned out far different to what he had pictured. They did not fall into the easy pattern of teasing that Zoro had anticipated, nor did those two years disappear like smoke after they re-discovered each other.

When Zoro stood on the wreckage of a pirate ship he had accidentally boarded, his eyes were drawn to the shoreline. He had sensed something that was familiar- in a way that he hadn't been able to fully sense two years before.

There stood the fisherman who had been too vague with his directions, and also a blond man with his hair parted to one side of his face. For a single heartbeat, Zoro couldn’t help but feel shocked at the sudden appearance of the man he had been waiting to see.

The hair was parted on the wrong side, and his goatee was thicker than Zoro remembered- but there was a cigarette in his mouth, and his eyebrow was still as strange as it had been the first time they met.

He could feel Sanji’s eyes also taking him in- his new clothing style, the scar on his face…

But while Zoro’s heart pounded in anticipation and a smirk grew on his lips, Sanji’s expression flashed with something that destroyed all of the witty remarks on Zoro’s tongue.

Discomfort.

When Sanji saw his teasing smirk, he had looked physically uncomfortable- and for the first time since he met the cook, Sanji averted his eyes from him. He turned his head like he was having a conversation with the fisherman, but Zoro knew how to read body language well enough to know that cook was only doing this to avoid looking at him.

The distance between the two of them hit Zoro like a knife to the gut. For a moment, all he could do was stand there stupidly, and stare at Sanji as his body angled away from him.

Two years.

There was a distance of two years between them, and Zoro had bulldozed through those years thinking that they would pick up where they left off. He had anticipated that there would be changes to his crewmates, his Captain especially, but Sanji…

Sanji was his closest friend. He had become a part of his life that he could rely on- a part that he trusted completely. He was a partner who would always have his back in a fight, no matter the odds, and the comfort and happiness of this had blinded Zoro. 

It was only then that he realized just how foolish he had been to assume that Sanji wouldn't change.

Because now, for the first time in his life, one of the few people he trusted in the world looked like they would rather be anywhere but next to him. Looked at him like they were less than strangers.

Like he was a  **threat**.

How…

How was Zoro supposed to fix this?

He tried teasing Sanji like he used to, but the cook avoided any bait he threw out with a strained sigh, and eyes that pointedly did not look in his direction: supposedly in order to take in the sights around them.

He then tried to lure Sanji into a spar, to compare notes like they used too. Zoro might not have known what words to say to make Sanji relax, but fighting had always been a common ground between them. It was neutral, safe territory; and they would not only be able to stretch out their limbs before setting sail, but they would also be able to show off all the new skills they had learned to each other. The conversation could flow from there, it could even be impersonal if that was all Sanji was currently comfortable with.

Sanji cited that they shouldn’t draw attention to themselves, and continued to browse the fruit stand they were in front of.

At this point Zoro began to feel a bit desperate, and so for the first time since he could remember, he tried to initiate small talk. It was something that he  _loathed,_  and was utter trash at- but if it broke even a little of the ice between them, he was willing to try.

Zoro tried asking Sanji about where he’d been those past two years, which was the topic that they were all going to talk about when they reunited on the Sunny anyway- it had seemed like the safest thing to talk about. From the way that Sanji walked, and in the subtle change in his body shape, it was obvious that the cook had been training- probably almost, if not just as religiously as Zoro had been these past two years. Knowing this made Zoro feel content in the knowledge that Sanji and him were still similar in the ways that mattered.

But the look on Sanji’s face after he asked this question, made Zoro physically take a step away from him. Pure hatred and killing intent radiated from the cook when he turned to meet Zoro’s eye for the first time since their initial meeting.

**“Shut up, Marimo.”**

Staring into those cold blue eyes that held none of the warmth Zoro remembered… Zoro knew that he meant nothing to this Sanji. He meant  **less** than nothing.

The proud swordsman, who would stand tall even when he was nearly unconscious from blood loss, turned his head away from the man who he trusted more than anyone else on the planet.

“Okay.”

 

 

“Oi Marimo, don’t fall behind.” Sanji breathed out a puff of smoke, “It’d be a real pain if you got lost again.”

Zoro grumbled a complaint that was meant to been taken as an acknowledgment, and continued walking foreword without sparing the cook a glance. They were walking side by side, and yet they walked as if they didn’t know each other.

Sanji was constantly stopping at stands to browse, leaving Zoro to his own devices, and he only acknowledged the swordsman’s presence when it looked like Zoro was about to wander out of his line of sight. It was almost reassuring, to see how careful Sanji was to make sure that they stayed together.

It reminded the swordsman of how they used to be. Whenever they stopped at an island to gather supplies, him and Sanji often grouped together to either explore or gather supplies. Sometimes they turned it into a competition, other times they simply browsed peacefully- but no matter the situation, Sanji was always nearby to make sure that they both got back to the ship without issues.

Zoro might not have been directionally challenged, but he didn’t mind indulging in his crew’s desire to ‘zoro-sit’ from time to time. After all, it eased his crew’s worries and it wasn’t like spending time with them was a particular bother to him. The cook could be decent company after all, when he wasn’t around women.

And so every time that the cook gave him a hard time about needing a sitter, Zoro couldn’t really bring himself to feel insulted. After all, every time the cook said those teasing words he was walking next to him with the obvious intent to spend time with him. Zoro had found a strange sense of warmth in Sanji’s actions, because in his own way, the cook was showing that he cared about him.

But that was the past. The current Sanji’s actions might have been similar, but the difference between then and now was as clear as night and day.

Back then Sanji’s eyes were  _alive,_ and his smile was genuine when he looked at Zoro. And whenever they decided to turn their outing into a game, or a competition, those eyes would light up- and even as they argued passionately on why they were the true winner of their contest, those eyes would shine with happiness and joy like the clear blue sky above their heads.

Now his voice was weary, as if any concern he felt for Zoro was a burden. His lack of enthusiasm was contagious, and whereas beforehand Zoro was looking forward to spending time with the cook- now he found himself wanting to put more distance between them.

The cook obviously disliked being around him, and he was quick to kill any conversation he tried to start- so Zoro decided to respect the cook’s newfound boundaries. He couldn’t figure out what he had done wrong, and Sanji wasn’t in the mood to enlighten him or let him fix whatever he had messed up- so all he could do was suck it up, and wait for Sanji to be ready to actually talk with him again.

That day progressed basically in this same fashion; awkward comments that slowly broke down a bit of Sanji's resistance, to the point where he could at least look Zoro in the eye again. Progress was slow, but at least it was there.

However, as much as Zoro tried to force himself to feel satisfied with this supposed ‘progress’, Sanji’s voice in parallel got progressively more and more weary- until it got to the point where it sounded like he wished more then anything that he wasn’t associated with the swordsman at all.

Every drawled word that fell from the cook’s lips felt like nails clawing at Zoro’s fine-tuned control, until something inside of him snapped.

Zoro and Sanji often fought with each other: it was just how their relationship worked. It entertained the both of them, and kept them happy- but they rarely sought to actually  _hurt_  the other with their words. They each knew the other well enough to know which topics crossed the line.

But at that time, the shock of Sanji’s change had long since faded, and all Zoro had been left with was a mess of frustration and resentment- because the cook wasn't even willing to  _try_  and bridge the gap between them.

And so Zoro lashed out, and while his wording could have been mistaken for the old back and forth they used to use, his tone was purposely chosen to hurt Sanji’s pride.

Because Sanji  **despised** being talked down to, like he was beneath others. It wasn't something that bothered Zoro, mainly because he preferred using actions instead of words to show his strength and emotions. If someone claimed to be better than him, as far as he was concerned, they needed to fucking prove it.

But for Sanji…

For Sanji it stirred something dark and dangerous inside his heart, and it always made him lash out in turn. As soon as those words left Zoro’s mouth, he regretted them.

But for the first time that day, Sanji looked at him with fire in his eyes. Those blue orbs were  _alive_ with anger, and not deadened by uncertainty. And so Zoro picked up his swords, and encouraged those flames to spread.

Maybe it was selfish.

But as those flaming legs slammed into his black blades, and the fire danced around them, Zoro couldn’t bring himself to stop.

Because as forced as it was, at least they were connected again. Sanji couldn’t deny the familiarity in the way they analyzed each others movements, or adjusted to each other’s attacks. He couldn’t deny that he had missed this dance just as much as Zoro had.

And for now, that was enough.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my new fanfic!
> 
> This story is my own personal backstory to Sanji and Zoro's relationship, and for those who are curious, it actually does fit in with my One Piece series 'I can't Stop'. You don't have to read that series to understand this story (I made this story so it can stand on its own), but technically, this could be considered a prequel to 'I can't Stop'.
> 
> At the end of the day this is its own individual story, and so I decided to post it separately- 'I can't Stop' focuses on Lawlu after all, and shifting the focus didn't seem right to me at all.
> 
> Whether you're a fan of ZoSan and you just want to read a new fanfic on them, or you're a fan of my previous work- I still really hope you enjoy my interpretation of Sanji and Zoro, and I can't wait to hear your thoughts on it :D
> 
> Thank you so much for your time, I'll see you next chapter! :)


	2. You calm the storm in me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why me?” 
> 
> Sanji grimaced, and reached up to rub his forehead as if he had suddenly gained a headache. He closed his aching eyes, and let out a deep sigh. 
> 
> “That’s the million berri question, isn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning... lots of flashbacks in this chapter.

The thing that Zoro had looked forward to the most, was once again sleeping on the Sunny. There was nothing quite as comforting as the feeling of being  **home** \- on Karaigana, Zoro had often fantasized about once again napping beside Sanji’s kitchen, and also sleeping in his own bed.

_I spent 2 years without you sleeping next to me._

 

**~ East Blue Saga ~**

 

It started out as an accident.

Space was limited on the Merry, but none of the strawhats ever minded it. They made it work. Nami was quick claim the ‘captain’s quarters’ and the only bed on the ship, which Luffy easily gave up because he didn’t mind sleeping grouped together with the guys (in fact, he claimed that he wasn’t used to sleeping alone, and so any argument Zoro might have had against the she-witch was immediately killed off).

After Nami claimed her territory, the male strawhat members transformed a room into the Men’s Quarters; they hung up hammocks because there wasn’t enough room for them all to have a bed- but even then, the men’s room only had enough space for two of them. So in the end they agreed on a sleeping schedule that was tied to their night shifts. The two people on the night shifts would get to sleep in the hammocks, while the two who weren't would sleep on the couches.

And then, on one random day that should have been utterly insignificant, Sanji fell into his hammock by mistake. Zoro could sleep through natural disasters, shipwrecks, and even a bar brawl- but he could never sleep when someone entered his personal space. He could sense it, a sixth sense that had been honed after years of traveling alone.

And so the swordsman was awake the moment Sanji stopped beside his hammock.

Zoro was still getting used to having nakama, and to the fact that he didn’t have to be alert even when asleep. He was slowly learning how to relax, but some of his base instincts were still active. When he saw that it was only the cook, his bloodlust disappeared and he relaxed- but before he could curse the man for waking him up and point him to his actual hammock, the cook was already on top of him.

Zoro was shocked at the sudden contact- his body froze, and the swordsman felt more and more confused as he took in the cook’s actions. Because Sanji didn’t seem to register his presence at all; the cook simply curled around him, and fell asleep instantly.

When the shock finally wore off, the swordsman’s initial reaction was to be ticked off. He had been on the first shift, and so was behind on sleep as it was, and now this second shift asshole had decided to wake him up after only a few hours of sleep.

Zoro would later wonder if that night was the result of the cook being too tired to notice or care- or if it had been intentional.

At first Zoro wanted to wake him, was seconds away from doing so in fact, but the sight of the cook sleeping was so strange that it made him realize that he had never actually seen the cook asleep before. He was always up and preparing food by the time everyone else was awake, and after everyone else retired, he often spent several hours at night washing dishes or organizing his pantry.

He seemed to avoid sleep like it was poison.

As if to back up this observation, Zoro looked down at the cook and noticed that Sanji had dark circles under his eyes. This also happened to be the first time since meeting the pretentious bastard, that Zoro saw Sanji completely relaxed.

Sanji curled a leg around one of his own, and snuggled into the curve of Zoro’s neck with a small sigh. Zoro was tense, and he wrestled with indecision for several moments, before letting out a resigned sigh. It seemed like this was something that Sanji needed, and so Zoro decided that one night wouldn't kill him- he’d catch up on sleep in the afternoon.

Luckily for the cook, Sanji always cooked breakfast during his night shifts in order to insure that his crewmates would have something to eat if he managed to actually get some sleep. He never actually did in hindsight- but this piece of forethought at least kept Luffy from whining the next morning and waking him up.

Zoro’s stomach on the other hand was growling something fierce by the time the cook began to stir, but at least after all this time, Zoro’s body had finally begun to adjust to Sanji being in his personal space. He was able to finally relax.

He had been tense all morning, unused to the contact- it was awkward and strange for him, but he bared it. And then when the cook finally woke up, he had the  _nerve_ to fucking shout, and kick him in the gut- like this was all somehow  ** _Zoro’s_** fault.

The next time Sanji wandered into his hammock, Zoro kicked  _him_ in the gut, and growled that his hammock was  _over there_.

 

The next time that they woke up next to each other was during a battle. Zoro couldn’t remember the face of whoever the insignificant enemy was, nor the reason why they were unconscious in the first place- but when they woke up, they were breathing the same air with their faces inches apart.

Sanji screamed bloody murder, and ran from the room as if he had woken up next to someone with the plague.

 

Zoro couldn’t understand what was so repulsive about him, that Sanji couldn’t stand to be in his personal space without kicks flying or insults thrown.

It wasn’t like he particularly  _cared_ about whether or not the cook was affectionate toward him, but Zoro had to admit that Sanji’s outright hostility bothered him. His affection for Nami (and women in general) was obvious for anyone to see, but while he also argued with Luffy and Usopp, he was notably more indulgent and even affectionate.

So why him?

Zoro was fully aware that he wasn’t someone that others got close to easily. He was apathetic to most things others considered fun, and he preferred solitary tasks that left little time for socializing. He had spent years on his own, getting close to no one, and this had resulted in him being incredibly independent.

Nowadays, he had to admit that he was more then content- he was actually happy. Now he had people who didn’t  _care_ about his obsessive workout schedule, or his drinking habits, or even how bloodthirsty he could be on occasion. They accepted him for who he was, and welcomed him with open arms. He had people to protect, and call his own. Now, for the first time since he had gotten separated from his family, he had a tentative place to call home.

So why?

Why couldn’t that damn ero-cook accept him?

 

 

 

**~ Post Drum Island Arc~**

 

Their new doctor was as cute as he was strange.

But the point of the matter was that they now had an extra person to accommodate. Vivi had been easy enough to account for since Nami roomed alone- the old captain’s quarters was now dubbed the girl’s room, and so any future girl nakama would be situated there.

But Chopper wasn’t a girl, and though he would never on pain of death admit it out loud to anyone, Zoro had to admit that he might have developed a bit of a soft spot for the innocent little guy- and so when the discussion of where he would sleep was brought up, Zoro relinquished one of the couches in favor of the floor.

He slept there daily anyways, and so he decided to start taking a nap on the couches during the afternoons as a compromise.

This situation also had the added benefit of not having to worry about whether or not a certain someone would ‘wander’ into the wrong bed. Zoro had long gotten tired of that particular song and dance, and though the cook himself was utterly ashamed to find himself basically sleepwalking into Zoro’s bed, his shame didn’t mean that he stopped doing it.

It was rarer nowadays, and the cook seemed capable of getting sleep on his own for the majority of the time, but occasionally (very occasionally), something would cause the cook to develop a case of insomnia. Zoro didn’t know what set him off, but after the second incident, Zoro made it a point to learn what the signs were.

He wasn’t a hundred percent positive that he was correct, as he’d yet to get a chance to confirm his observations- but if he  _was_ right, then the cook would be wandering into his ‘bed’ any day now. His constant wondering and anticipation meant that Sanji wasn’t the only one unable to sleep.

Zoro was honestly curious at how the cook was going to pull this off. How could a person not notice when they settled on the  _floor?_ Zoro could… vaguely accept the previous incidents as honest accidents, though he was still incredibly dubious- because how the fuck could you not notice the body you were curling around? Did he mistake him as a pillow or some shit?

If so, then Zoro would make it a point to borrow even more money from the she-witch, and buy a new one for the ero-cook. Because he really didn’t know how else to deal with this situation.

Two days later, when the door opened as the sun broke over the horizon, Zoro tensed. He could hear the shuffling of fabric as Sanji pulled up his pant legs in order to pull off his boots.

It was the only time of the day that the cook parted with his weapons, unless of course, he was cleaning them.

Zoro could hear the cook setting them near his feet, and he could also feel the cook walking across the floorboards until he was next to him. Zoro’s teeth grinded together when he felt the man sit down next to him, and then curl up against his side.

Well, that confirmed that he had been reading the signs correctly.

Zoro let out a deep sigh, and opened his eyes in order to look down at the man curled up next to him. Sanji had the same dark circles under his eyes that he had had the first time Zoro had woken up like this, and the sight of pure exhaustion on his face made Zoro close his eyes, and bring up a hand to massage his throbbing temples.

Tonight. Just for tonight.

He was going to put the cook through hell tomorrow.

 

 

 

**~ Post Water 7 Arc ~**

 

Sanji wasn’t sleeping again.

It happened on and off, but no one else ever seemed to notice. Zoro figured it was because the cook never wandered into  _their_ beds.

The first sign was the cook’s willingness to take the first night shift. The second sign was the dark circles that would appear under his eyes, as well as his insistence that his next meal needed to be simmered overnight. And then, the sign that confirmed all of Zoro’s theories on Sanji not sleeping, was the inevitable incident where the cook wandered into the men’s cabin, and collapsed on top him.

After that first night, Zoro was firm in rejecting Sanji’s unconscious advances. It wasn’t just because of the man’s over-the-top reaction at waking up next to him, though the memory of it never failed to tick the green-haired swordsman off.

It was because Sanji always looked genuinely disturbed when he woke up next to him. He looked at Zoro like he wasn’t nakama, and instead like he was someone who had hurt the cook without intending to.

And so Zoro always kicked him out, even when he knew that the cook needed the sleep.

This continued on and off for several weeks, and though he gave in a few times, overall, Zoro held strong. The cook always managed to shake himself out of whatever rut he found himself in anyway-  _without_ Zoro’s interference, so it wasn’t necessary to indulge the cook.

This time was different though.

The events of Enies Lobby had affected them all in various ways, the biggest of which was the inclusion of their new crewmates. Robin might have always felt like a member of their crew, but now, she was finally accepting it in return. Her smiles were more frequent, and her eyes shined with a content light that had always been missing from her soulful eyes. Franky’s eccentricities were also something new to get used to, along with their new sleeping arrangements.

The Sunny was beautiful.

But sometimes… it felt too big.

While they had once complained about the lack of beds on the Going Merry, now the fact that they each had their own bed awkward. Zoro found himself preferring to sleep out on the deck, next to the kitchen where he could hear Sanji puttering around. It was a sound that reminded him that even if the ship had changed- he was still  **home**.

But Sanji didn’t have something like that, to remind him that he was home too. Zoro glared at the bags under Sanji’s eyes, and tried to ignore the whispers in the back of his mind that insisted that he could do something about them.

But Zoro wasn’t going to hurt Sanji to help him, not unless it was absolutely necessary.

The day that Sanji burned his wrist with frying oil was the day that Zoro decided it was absolutely necessary.

 

“Seriously Marimo, quit  _hovering-_ I’m not a damn invalid! Even Chopper isn’t as bad as you, I swear.”

Zoro grunted, his eyes on the white bandages wrapped around Sanji’s wrist. The cook’s back was to him as he kneeded a spice mixture into the flesh of the sea-king meat they had killed yesterday.

Sanji let out an irritated sigh, because even without turning around, he knew that the swordsman’s eyes were still on him

“Why are you even up right now?” Sanji glared at the swordsman from the corner of his eye, but Zoro ignored this irritated look, and instead focused on the bags under said eyes, “You have the first shift tomorrow, and if you fall asleep on watch duty, then I am going to kick you in the face until I manage to restart your brain.”

The swordsman’s continued silence unnerved Sanji more then his insults ever could, and the cook shifted awkwardly as he tried to busy himself with the prep work for tomorrow’s meals. Zoro continued to watch him in this increasingly stifling atmosphere, and only broke the silence to ask a question that he had been curious about for a long time.

“Why do you start prepping things the night before? Does it really need to set for so long?”

 Sanji froze for a moment, surprise clear on his face, even if Zoro couldn’t see the expression.

“... It can bring out more flavor to season things in advance, but it’s a delicate balance to maintain- to make sure to season it in a way to maximize the flavor without drying out the product. Of course, every ingredient needs to be handled differently.”

Zoro hummed in acknowledgment to the advice, and leaned his head against the palm of his hand as he continued to watch the cook move around the kitchen. The swordsman was sitting on a barstool with his swords propped up next to him, and while he wasn’t dressed in typical pajamas, his loose green pants and shirt were more than comfortable enough to sleep in.

“... Why the sudden interest, Marimo?”

When Zoro didn’t answer promptly, Sanji turned to look at him as he washed his hands. Zoro’s eyes bore into his own without hesitation, and the seriousness in those eyes had Sanji tensing as he dried his hands, “What happened?”

“You have a problem sleeping.”

Sanji froze, and almost dropped the towel in his hands.

“... You promised to never bring that up again.”

Zoro grunted in acknowledgment as he stood up, and then walked around the bar in order to stand in front of the cook. He crossed his arms as he blocked Sanji’s escape, and then pointedly looked down at where Sanji had hidden his bandages behind the sleeve of his shirt.

“It’s never been this bad before.”

Sanji scowled as he tossed the towel next to the sink, and leaned forward into Zoro’s space. His blue eye was burning with aggression, and the space between the seemed to simmer with heat.

“I’ll get over it! I always do- I’ve just been a little on edge lately, it’ll pass.”

_Until it comes back again._

Zoro stared at the fuming man without a change in expression, and his stoic body language had Sanji feeling both enraged and defensive, “It’s not like you can fix it Moss Head, so why the fuck would you bring it up?! There’s nothing you, or Chopper, or anyone else can do- so why don’t we just let this go? I’ve been dealing with this my whole life- it’s not a big deal. It really isn’t.”

There was a pleading note well hidden in his voice, but Zoro wasn’t going to let this go. Not this time. For months he ignored this problem, for months he accepted this as something that Sanji had to deal with- but this was obviously something that the cook  _couldn’t_ deal with.

And that was okay.

Because everyone needed help now and again, and Zoro didn’t mind helping out his nakama when they were in need.

Zoro and Sanji were almost the exact same height.

It was an odd thing to notice at this point in time, but Zoro couldn’t help but think it fitting. Because while the cook was an inch shorter than him, his boots always bumped him up until they were equals.

Because they  _were_ equals.

Zoro leaned forward until they were breathing the same air, and his own eyes were burning with an even greater inferno then the cook’s.

“It  _is_ a big deal Sanji.”

The fire in Sanji’s eyes sputtered, and the cook was left feeling both shaken and shocked, because Zoro never called him by his name- just like Sanji never called him by his own.

“Let me help you.”

Sanji opened and closed his mouth, trying to come up with something to say and hating himself for drawing a blank. The intensity in Zoro’s eyes didn’t wane, but his expression did soften.

Sanji swallowed awkwardly, and took a hasty step back until he bumped into the sink behind him. He turned around as if that had been his intention all along, and then he reached over to grab the towel so he could hang it next to the stove, “I already said that you couldn’t help me-”

“You keep sleepwalking into my bed.”

Sanji bit his tongue to cut off the strangled noise that built in his throat when Zoro said those damning words. His entire face turned beet red, and the cook couldn’t bring himself to turn around and face the man after he brought that up.

Dear God, Sanji just wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

“Oi, don’t shut down on me!” Zoro reached out to grab Sanji’s uninjured wrist, and physically turned the cook to face him again, “I’m being serious here!”

“I know!” The cook knew more than anything how serious the swordsman was, if only because he was bringing this up. That didn’t mean that Sanji wanted to have this conversation though- in fact, he would have rathered avoided having this particular conversation for the rest of his life.

“I know…” Sanji’s voice grew soft as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarette case. He lifted the carten to his lips in a practiced motion, and pulled out a new cigarette with his lips as his other hand reached for his lighter.

“... I thought you would reach for those earlier.”

Sanji let out a sigh of smoke, though he turned his head so the cloud mostly avoided Zoro’s face. The smell and taste of cigarettes had both of them untensing, and Sanji gave Zoro a tired smile, “I’m trying to be a bit conservative, since Nami-san said the journey to the next island might take longer than expected.”

Zoro chuckled, “Like I don’t know about all the places you have your cigarettes stashed. You probably have more then a whole storefront hidden on this ship.”

Sanji’s smile was easy as he leaned against the counter, “Better safe than sorry.”

“True.”

They stood there in comfortable silence as Sanji finished his cigarette, and after dropping the bud on an ashtray, Sanji gave Zoro a look he couldn't decipher. Before the swordsman could react, the cook was slipping around him and out of his reach. Zoro opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, he saw what Sanji was reaching for.

Zoro shut his mouth as he watched Sanji open the liquor cabinet and pull two glasses out from a different cupboard.

He poured two shots of sake- and it was his favorite kind too. Sanji smirked when he noticed Zoro’s raised eyebrow, “This conversation needs some alcohol I think, and we might as well finish off the last bottle.”

“... mm.”

Zoro made an agreeing noise, and then the two of them sat down side by side on the barstools. Zoro was quick to decide not to push Sanji, when he watched the cook down his shot like a dying man gulping water in the desert. He would give Sanji time to put his thoughts together, because he knew just how uncomfortable with this subject was for the cook was.

Zoro gulped down his own shot, and then held out his glass so the cook could top him off after he was done filling up his own. Sanji was a brave man, and despite his discomfort, he hadn’t run. He was still here, sitting beside him, and so Zoro remained quiet, and they finished off the bottle in silence.

Afterwords, they sat there, staring at the empty bottle for several seconds. Sanji finally sighed, and stood up to put it away. Zoro cleared his throat, and wished that there was another way. That he could tease the cook, and that they could both pretend that their earlier conversation hadn’t happened.

But Zoro couldn’t do that to Sanji. No, Sanji didn’t deserve to have this swept under the rug and forgotten. Zoro had too much respect for him to do that.  

They couldn’t avoid this conversation forever, and so Zoro cleared his throat, and started with the most obvious question.

“Why?”

Sanji paused for a moment, his back still to Zoro as he smiled a bitter smile, “Why what, Marimo?”

When he turned back around, Zoro made it a point to raise an eyebrow at him. Sanji gave him a cheeky smile before settling back down next to the swordsman, his heels clicking together on instinct.

Zoro paused for a moment to eye the nervous tick, before plowing ahead into the uncomfortable conversation that they had to have.

“Why me?”

Sanji grimaced, and reached up to rub his forehead as if he had suddenly gained a headache. He closed his aching eyes, and let out a deep sigh.

“That’s the million berri question, isn’t it?”

Zoro didn’t say another word. Sanji sat in the silence, growing tenser and tenser with every second. Finally, he turned and met Zoro’s eyes with his own bloodshot ones, his heels continuing the click together, “Look, I really wish that I could answer, but I can’t.”

...

Sanji figited, unnerved by the silence, and continued on, “I wish I knew why, don’t you think I’ve been bashing my brain trying to figure it out?”

Zoro’s eyes bore into him relentlessly, but his expression remained stoic and impossible to read, “You're avoiding the question.”

“Yeah, I am.” Sanji buried his face in his hands, and then ran them through his hair, messing up the gel. His always pristine and perfect hair became disheveled, and now his appearance matched exactly how he felt on the inside.

“... Look… Zoro” Sanji swallowed thickly, and then whispered his confession while praying that Zoro would understand, “I really don’t know the answer.”

The silence was so thick, that Sanji felt like he could cut through it with a knife. He stared down at his sticky hands, and his lips twitched when Zoro read the atmosphere, and changed the subject, “... Did you know that you were crawling into my bed?”

“... Yes.” Sanji’s entire body drooped against the counter with obvious exhaustion. He didn't even try to deny it, because Sanji was  **tired**  . Inside and out, he was physically and mentally  _exhausted_ from avoiding this, from avoiding thinking, talking, and confronting  _this_. Whatever  ** _this_** was, “I wasn’t fully aware at first, but it was hard not to notice the actual body I was laying on top of.”

The cook gave the swordsman a half-hearted grin with mirth and self-deprecation clear on his face, “I wanted to get up. I wanted to get up, laugh it off, and then go to my hammock, but…”

“But… I couldn’t bring myself to move.”

Sanji leaned down to cross his arms on the counter, and then laid his head down to rest his head on them. He didn’t have the energy to lift his head and meet Zoro’s penetrating stare, and instead the cook took comfort in the small space of darkness that he had created, “Stupid as it fucking sounds, when I was next to you I calmed down. I was able to relax.”

Sanji took in a deep breath, and resisted the urge to reach into his pocket for another cigarette, “So yeah… I’ll admit that I have an  _idea_ of why it was you. I have an idea, but I really don't like what it says about me. I’m hoping that I’m wrong”

…

“Maybe one day, you’ll trust me enough to tell me.”

“It… it’s not about trust Marimo.” Sanji took in a deep breath, and then turned to face Zoro so that he could see the truth in his eyes, “It’s about me acknowledging what the problem is… can you please give me some time? To sort things out?”

Sanji’s blue eyes were begging him to give him this time, but at the same time they were loaded with guilt- because the cook knew that it wasn’t exactly fair, what he was asking.

But Zoro ignored the guilt, and simply nodded his head.

“Take all the time you need.”

Sanji blinked, and looked genuinely startled at Zoro’s easy agreement. It took several seconds for the cook to regain his bearings and sit up.

“Really?”

“Really.” Zoro stood up, and reached out to pick up his katanas. He wasn’t able to attach them to the waist of this outfit, but he made due by leaning them against his shoulder. He did all this in a practiced motion, as if their conversation had not impacted him in the slightest. Sanji was envious at how unaffected he seemed.

The swordsman then began to walk out of the kitchen, and Sanji watched him with eyes that were clouded with resignation. He had known that this wouldn’t help, that getting his hopes up was a stupid idea, but-

Zoro paused halfway out the door, and then turned to look back at the exhausted cook. His expression remained apathetic, as if the words that came out of his mouth were something to be expected, “Aren't you coming?”

Sanji blinked, his expression full of surprise and confusion, “What?”

Zoro let out an exaggerated sigh, though his eyes held a trace of discomfort that he tried to play off, “I said, aren't you coming? You don’t have a shift tonight, and I don’t want to wake up in the middle of the night when you join me again so…”

Zoro gestured for the cook to follow him, “Let’s go get some sleep. We’ve both been awake  _way_ too long.”

Sanji remained sitting in his seat, uncomprehending what Zoro was trying to imply, “Seriously Marimo, what are you-”

“Look.” Zoro cleared his throat and shrugged, his body tense. Sanji suddenly realized that Zoro was actually just as affected by their weird conversation as he had been. It made the cook relax, and smile a bit.

Zoro fidgeted with his swords, and then turned to stare out the doorway so he wouldn’t have to see the cook’s expression, “I asked you to let me help you, and this is the best thing I can do. If you feel relaxed when you’re next to me, then okay. We can work with this.”

“Zoro-” Sanji stared at him, his eyes wide as it finally dawned on him exactly what Zoro was trying to say.

Zoro swallowed back the lump in his throat, and forced the words that he needed to say out of his mouth, “So, my bed’s always open.”

The words were awkward, and Zoro’s entire face burned with heat as he tried to ignore how suggestive his words were- because really, this was innocent. It really was.

“... ” Sanji’s whole body stiffened, and for a moment all was silent. And then something wonderful happened.

The cook threw back his head and  _laughed_ , tears squeezing from his eyes as he stumbled to his feet and walked until he was next to the swordsman, who he slapped on the back. Zoro glared at Sanji’s devilish smirk, and he would never admit in a million years how self-conscious he felt in that moment,  “We’ve really got to work on how you word things Marimo.”

“Shut up, shitty cook.”

Sanji continued to chuckle as they made there way to the men’s quarters, though he was at least trying to hold back his amusement in sight of Zoro’s embarrassed rage.

“Whatever you say, shitty swordsman.”

Zoro snorted, glaring at the man beside him as he set his katanas next to the head of the cot he had rolled out on the floor. Sanji had already grabbed the pillows and blankets from a nearby locker, and he handed them to Zoro so he could leave and get ready for bed. He left to wash up, brush his teeth, ect., and Zoro used that time alone to calm down.

After setting up their bed, Zoro lifted the covers and shifted into a comfortable position. Zoro gulped back his reservations, and then looked up to meet Sanji’s eyes when the door cracked open again.

Suddenly, Zoro relaxed. All of his reservations melted away, and he gained confidence in himself when he saw the hesitation and hope in Sanji’s eyes. Zoro took in a deep breath, and then awkwardly opened his arms in silent invitation.

Sanji had been holding his boots nervously in his hands, but at the sight of Zoro’s determination to see this through, he turned to set them down at the foot of the bed. When Sanji looked up once again, he met Zoro’s awkward expression… with the most beautiful smile that Zoro had ever seen.

It lit up his blue eyes like the sky when it was first kissed by the sun in the morning.

Sanji moved to sit down next to him, and happily settled into Zoro’s stiff arms. Zoro shifted uncomfortably, and tried to ignore how hot his face felt.

“Hey…”

“Hmm?”

“... thanks for the drink Eyebrows.”

Sanji let out a quiet laugh that was borderline hysterical, but he quickly covered his mouth so he wouldn’t wake up anyone.

“Thanks for the bed, Marimo.”

Zoro and Sanji shared a secret grin, and then curled around each other as they tucked the blanket around themselves.

They both fell asleep at different times. Sanji was first- the exhaustion took over swiftly with the alcohol swimming in his stomach and the warmth spread all around him. For Zoro, sleep took a little longer- but unlike the first time Sanji had climbed into his bed, he was now used to the feeling of Sanji in his personal space.

Zoro glanced down at the cook in his arms when he felt him shift in his sleep. He always washed out the gel in his hair before going to bed, and so Zoro was treated to the rare sight of Sanji’s full face. The sight made something strange uncurl in his stomach.

His ridiculous eyebrow swirls went in the same direction.

Zoro tightened his grip around the sleeping cook when those eyebrows scrunched up, and pulled there bodies flush together. Soon after Sanji’s face softened, and he relaxed back into a restful sleep.

Zoro stared down at the unguarded expression on Sanji’s face, with his own expression hidden in the shadows of the night.

Soon after, Zoro closed his eyes and buried his face in the cook’s surprisingly soft hair. He took in the smell of cigarettes and spices, and joined Sanji in the land of sleep. His grip never wavered even in the dead of night.

When everyone woke up the next day, just like on their first night together, no one commented on their sleeping arrangements- and Zoro and Sanji didn’t feel the need to bring it up either.

Because it was their business, and no one else's unless Sanji wanted to tell them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I hope you liked chapter 2! :D
> 
> I'm a little worried about how I formatted the flashbacks, so please let me know what you thought! I'm also curious about how you guys see Sanji. I'm not sure exactly how he comes across...
> 
> But anyways, happy late Valentine's Day! I hope you all enjoyed it, and are looking foreword to the half-off chocolate as much as me~  
> Yum! :D  
> Goodnight everyone! I'll see you soon! :)


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